


Riding South

by Deannie



Series: Cowboys and Zombies [5]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Gen, Old West Zombie AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-06-01 01:41:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6495787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deannie/pseuds/Deannie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I’d heard of what the girls in Santa Fe call <i>no muertos</i>—the undead. Exaggeration and hysteria. Or so I thought until I headed back toward Eagle Bend from Colorado, tromping into the little town of Harleyville as the sun set. That night was a revelation and a horror, and I wish I could say I’ll never see its like again, but I fear the world is failing, and nights like that’ll be the norm in not too much longer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Riding South

My name’s Buck Wilmington, and I’ve seen a lot of things in this life. Women torn apart by evil men, boys torn apart by bloody war, my best friend’s soul torn apart by the fire that consumed his family… But until I'd seen a man torn apart by the corpse of another, I never believed in the Devil.

Devil’s been damn busy around here.

I didn't believe a word of the danger when I signed on to that last job; just sort of thought the family was being over cautious. The Rothbergs made it to Pueblo without losing horse or man and I never saw more than cows and scrub oak as I patrolled around them. I didn’t get paid well for guarding that wagon train, but seeing a new family find land of their own and start to living? It wasn’t quite payment in itself, but it was an added bonus to the two bags of foodstuffs and handful of coins they had to spare.

I’d heard of what the girls in Santa Fe call _no muertos_ —the undead. And of course, everyone’s heard of the disease that’s been sweeping across from California. Kills little ones quick, turns adults mad. All exaggeration and hysteria. Or so I thought until I headed back toward Eagle Bend from Colorado, tromping into the little town of Harleyville as the sun set.

That night was a revelation and a horror, and I wish I could say I’ll never see its like again, but I fear the world is failing, and nights like that’ll be the norm in not too much longer.

I was in the boarding house when the first wave of them hit. A line of demons, blank eyed and ravenous, coming for anyone who didn’t move fast enough. Learned real quick to shoot for the head, but a handful of guns only shoot so fast. The town panicked as people were bitten, attacked, fed on. Some who were bit went crazy so quick it was terrifying, and people were shooting friend and foe because for a while there, you couldn’t tell which was which.

Dawn was coated in the smell of the dead and I wasn’t the only one to lose his dinner at the sight. Thirty _no muertos_ and twenty townspeople were rotting in the street while the local healer tried to save seven more who were bit. I wish I’d known then what I know now—I’d’ve started shooting them in the head and saving the rest of the town instead of riding out toward home. But the need to get back was powerful.

Eagle Bend isn’t much to me any more, but it’s possible Chris will have sent me a message there. Ain’t found a town with a safe telegraph office to send a message and see if Hiram’s heard from him. But I’m hoping, praying when the day’s particularly bad, that Chris kept heading east after that disaster in Parkerstown. If not, I suppose not even the undead can stand up to him when he’s right pissed off, can they?

Most towns I go through are either abandoned or holing up, guns raised against any who try to enter. I understand the first—running might be the only answer for most—but the second is just stupid. Wall up, sure, but you can’t turn away anyone who might be of help. Just gotta be smart about it.

I ride into another town—no sign proclaiming it, no idea of the name. Up here in the north of the territory, towns spring up around ore deposits and disappear as soon as the copper or silver runs out. Place looks too big to be one of those mining towns, but it’s been ravaged by the _no muertos_. And it ain’t empty. I can see shadows of men with guns in the windows.

“Hey the town!” I call out. They know I’m here—might as well be friendly. “Anyone left?”

“A few.” A tall Mexican man steps out of a building that might have been the saloon at one time, a rifle pointed at my head. “What’s your business?”

I laugh at that. “Survival, mostly,” I reply truthfully. “Ain’t much else to do these days.”

A black man steps out of a building across the street and aims at me as well, but my pistol stays in my holster. People are scared and panic is a sure way to get dead.

The Mexican seems to be in charge. He looks me over, examining me and my mare for bites, no doubt, while eying my saddlebags. “Looks like you’re surviving pretty well.”

I nod cautiously. “Getting by.”

“Figure you could get by without them bags of yours,” the black man says. A few of the others have moved out into the street, but they’re all of them terrified. I’m betting not a one of them has ever shot a man. They’re just desperate.

But hell, ain’t we all?

“Well, now, I’m not so sure of that, friend,” I tell him, prodding Lady into a slow walk. “Listen, I’ll just be moving on—”

A white man with a sheriff’s badge strides out to block my way. “Not with what you got in those bags, you won’t,” he says stoutly. “Give it over and we’ll let you go.”

I steer Lady around him silently, and his rifle cocks behind me. I twist in my saddle and my pistol is in my hand and aimed at his head quick enough to cause ‘em all to gasp. I’m damn fast when I have to be.

“Think you should worry more about taking care of your families—what you got left of them—instead of waylaying people you don’t want to piss off.” I glance pointedly at the front window of what was clearly a restaurant, where at least three very little faces are peering out at me. “Or are you gonna start murdering live people in front of ‘em?”

The sheriff relaxes his grip on his rifle, pointing it at the sky. “We’re desperate, fella,” he whispers. “Don’t mean you harm.”

I holster my gun and turn back to the road and give Lady a tap in the flank to get her going. “Might want to stop pointing rifles where they don’t belong, then, friend.”

They don’t follow, and there’s a worry in me that this town is soon to go the way of so many I’ve seen. Lord, the world is falling apart as we watch, ain’t it?

A rustle in the bushes has me slowing down as I get to the other end of town. A little blonde head—a girl not more than five or six—pokes out of the browning leaves. I smile at her, reach back slow and careful and untie one of my bags, mostly food but also some stuff I can afford to lose, dropping it close to her before riding on.

World may be falling apart, but I don’t have to help it along.

*****  
the end


End file.
